Every so often I truly realize how lucky Ernie and I are to have the relationship we do. Sometimes I realize it when really great things happen and sometimes it’s when really horrible things happen and sometimes it happens when you have a conversation about hemorrhoids.

You know, I used to be pretty reserved about sharing intimate details. I’m sure you’re laughing in disbelief if you’ve read this blog in recent years, but it’s true. Somehow, once we got past sharing childbirth, raising children, cancer, and caring for dying family members, well, we just got past any kind of reserve about physical details, although I do wish I could cure my husband of his habit of coming out of the bathroom and saying, WHEW.

Then again, my mother once told me I was the most down to earth person she’d ever met and as much as she loved me, I’m not totally sure it was a compliment. She would be shaking her head right now. Lovingly though, lovingly.

After Ernie and I stopped laughing about the fact that we were discussing hemorrhoids I commented that it had never crossed my mind that aliens could emerge from my butt. I mean, good GOD people….who on earth agreed to this? The indignities of aging are mind boggling and they just keep coming. I’m not even that old yet. What on earth awaits me?

Later that day Ernie came home from the store and informed that me that he had left the ointment I needed on the kitchen counter. Little Guy and I clumped into the kitchen and grabbed it off the counter. I was almost all the way to the bathroom before I realized that I had grabbed a tube of anchovy paste that had also been on the shopping list. I laughed so hard that Ernie had to come to check on me.

I love him, and I’m so glad that life amuses us. I don’t know how people get through it if they aren’t amused by it.

In other assorted news:

I am constantly pestering Tal by sending her baby pictures of Leo.

She kindly sent me some of hers (OMG adorable) and then she noted, “The dungarees were so if/when I threw a fit my dad could just scoop me up by the back of them like an angry little briefcase.”


#angrylittlebriefcase has now officially entered the lexicon of our family.

I spent several hours at the eye doctor the other day getting all sorts of tests only to be told that my eye needed to be 1 mm droopier in order for insurance to cover fixing it. Eh.

It’s apple cooking time and we are always delighted to use the apple corer made by our beloved friend, tinsmith, and antique dealer, Lee Winkler. The best part is that it works brilliantly.

Lastly, I seem to be channeling my father of late, whether it’s attempting to use Joe the shillelagh as a tool in all sorts of situations or because lately, when frustrated I burst out with “CHRIST ALMIGHTY” and it sounds just like him, at least in my head.

Ok, enough rambling. Onward.

Top photo: the devastation.